Page 2 of The Highland Heist
Frederick bent ever so slightly, his movement gaining Zahra’s attention. “Wait until you’ve seen your new home at Havensbrooke, Zahra.” He nodded toward the home in front of them. “It’s been in my family for centuries and is at least three times the size of Rutledge House.”
The little girl’s eyes widened. “Then I shall lose myself.”
“No fear, lamb.” Grace’s husband cooed out the words, giving her an even sweeter glimpse of the father she knew him to be. “Someone will always find you.”
Oh, how she loved him.
The worry coiling in her chest unwound in a wonderful warmth. He did that for her—found her—even if it only meant finding her gaze in a crowd. It was one of her favorite experiences, except when he wore that concerned “what are you doing” expression or the “did you truly say that out loud, darling” expression and maybe the “please don’t do what I think you are going to do” expression.
Whatever the concern with her father—if there even was one—she and Frederick would sort it out together. She was certain of it. They’d been sorting through life-threatening situations since their first week of marriage, and the fact they were both still alive gave testament to their compatibilities, God’s grace, and excellent timing.
Not to mention a few other people helping them along the way, excellent novel-reading preparation, and the constant availability of ropes.
Frederick sent her a reassuring smile as he opened the car door, likely trying to quiet her worries. Oh, he was simply the very best man she’d ever known. Who but God could have imagined that an unexpected wedding between a second-choice American bride and a reformed roguish British earl could have turned out to be not only a friendship but a love match, as well? And he was positively excellent at distracting her from her concerns.
After giving instructions for Zahra and Miss Cox to wait for them in the car with the driver, Frederick escorted Grace to the door of the three-story, brick mansion.
The familiar gong echoed inside as Frederick rang the bell.
Grace pulled at the edges of her gloves, giving her head a shake at her silliness. There was no need for concern, of course. This was her childhood home. She knew this place. Every nook, every corridor, and even the unexpected hiding spots.
Her smile brimmed. Besides, she’d see her father.
But why did her stomach feel as if the contents wanted to take flight? Her lips tightened. Was this, perhaps, how Lizzie Bennet felt the first time she saw Pemberley?
After a few moments, the door opened to reveal the familiar face of Perkins, her father’s longstanding butler. Father had brought him on before Grace could remember.
The man’s eyes widened when his attention moved from Frederick to Grace, and his mouth even dropped open. She would have been concerned, but she’d seen that same look on Perkins’ face quite often when she’d lived in this house.Poor man.He was always finding her in the most unexpected quandaries.
“Miss Grace?” He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, dipping his head with a shake. “Lady Astley, my lady.”
The combination of his voice and his immediate confusion with titles had her breaking all protocols of a countess and running directly into the older man’s arms. He stayed as straight as a tree, but that didn’t stop Grace. His scent of polish and soap had meant home for such a large portion of her life.
Her smile brimmed, and she stepped back, Perkins looking every bit as discombobulated as he always did when she’d hugged him. “It is so wonderful to see you, Perkins. And you look the same as always.”
“I should hope so, my lady. It hasn’t been a year since we last saw one another.”
“No, it has not, though it feels much longer.” Grace gestured back to Frederick. “I don’t believe you’ve met my husband, Lord Astley.”
The butler dipped his body in an awkward bow, his gaze taking in Frederick, before he dipped his head again. “Your lordship.”
“I apologize for not having given you notice of our arrival, Perkins.” Frederick smiled. “But I had hoped to surprise my bride with a visit home before we return to England.”
“Isn’t it the sweetest thing?” Grace sighed back to her darling husband and then tried to peer around Perkins to get a view of the interior of the house. The entry hall really was one of its best features. “The house looks marvelous too.” She surveyed the new shrubbery lining the front, pausing on a patch of missing foliage. Had someone removed Mother’s rose bushes? Why on earth would Father ever approve of such a thing? “There’s new landscaping?”
Her stomach dropped with renewed fervor.
“Within the last three weeks, my lady.” Perkins ran a finger beneath his collar and swallowed audibly. “Several new improvements, as you can imagine.”
Father had mentioned improvements just before Grace wed Frederick in late November, which was why he’d encouraged Grace and her sister to prepare for the wedding at their friends’ home, Whitlock Manor, but Grace had always supposed the improvements involved internal changes. Updates.
Nothing drastic.
Nothing like removing Mother’s roses.
“I was sure the improvements would have been finished by now.” Grace looked from Perkins to Frederick, whose expression dissolved from welcome into … what was it? Concern? Surely there wasn’t much to be concerned about regarding house renovations, was there?
Unless one distracted a serious workman with too many questions and he nearly electrocuted himself.
